


Rough

by Clementive



Series: October Prompts [1]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Aged-Down Hatake Kakashi, Alternate Universe - Elementary School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Family, Fatherhood, Fathers Bonding, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Hatake Sakumo & Hatake Kakashi, Implied/Referenced Namikaze Minato & Uzumaki Naruto, Parent-Teacher Conference, Single Parent Hatake Sakumo, Snippets, Stay-At-Home Parent Namikaze Minato, Struggling Hatake Sakumo, Worried Parents
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-15
Updated: 2020-10-15
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:02:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26952583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Clementive/pseuds/Clementive
Summary: Two fathers talk in the empty hallway of a Parent-Teacher conference, one is smiling more than the other.
Relationships: Hatake Sakumo & Namikaze Minato
Series: October Prompts [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1973230
Kudos: 11





	Rough

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this for a challenge in the Naruto Multishipper Anonymous server. When I saw the prompts (Parent-Teacher Conference, Sakumo Hatake & Minato Namizake + Single Dad!AU), I almost cried (lol). I had never written any of those characters before or any other characters from that generation actually. Against all odds, I really liked how this piece turned out, so I polished it, and here we are. Enjoy! :)

Sakumo's leg bounced faster as the parents next to him were called in the classroom.

He waited.

The hallway was now almost deserted, except for another man sitting across from Sakumo. The stranger was neatly dressed, waiting patiently, his soft smile never wavering as he nodded at the parents entering and exiting the classroom to his right. 

_He_ looked like a good father.

Sakumo’s mouth dried. He felt his stubble beard, shifting uncomfortably on the plastic chair and his suit. Distracted, he tried to arrange his tie, but his hands shook, the teacher's summon wrinkling in his grasp. ‘ _What am I doing here?_ ’ he thought helplessly for the nth time. He flexed his hands, cement and grease still deep in his skin. He had come directly from work and changed his clothes in his truck, the red summon to the conference balanced on the dashboard. 

He certainly did _not_ look like a good father.

Now Sakumo tried to hide the slip in his worn jacket. The buttons of the jacket were too loose for it to remain close, so he gave up.

He was good at giving up.

When Sakumo raised his head again, he held his breath, watching the other father's out of the corner fo his eyes. He didn't seem to have noticed him or the red slip written in bold letters. Relieved, Sakumo shifted in his seat pulling at the lined jacket and pants. The chair squeaked and screeched against the floor. Sakumo stilled, meeting the frank blue stare of the stranger. 

He gulped.

“It’s been a rough day,” Sakumo muttered, apologetic and bowed his head at this stranger. 

It has been a rough couple of years, he meant. He had a rough life, a rough son, a rough start. Rough. He was rough all round his sanded down hands and heart. He felt these were all excuses now: ‘ _My wife died._ ’ People used to sympathize, now they expected him to know how to handle his son, his life. ‘ _Time to move on_ ,’ they would say and there would be no more pity. 

There would be disgust. 

' _Time to move on._ '

But he was grey. He was tired. 

“My son is a little loud,” the stranger said with the same warm smile. “That’s probably why they're keeping me for last.”

Sakumo grimaced. If only his son would be loud, instead of silent and angry, maybe they would understand each other then. Maybe they would be a family again then.

There were days, he felt they had both given up on each other. On explanations. On excuses. Grief had roughened them up, blunted their expressions, dried up their their need for conversation.

They lived side-by-side, father and son, detached, and every once in a while, there would come a call or a red summon from school, and Sakumo would feel guilty. 

“I stay at home," the stranger was now saying, "so I don’t know… is the suit a bit much?”

Sakumo startled and looked up at the stranger. 

“I… I also went for the tie,” Sakumo heard himself say and paused to cough. He sounded too rough. The man was just trying to be nice. “I’m a construction worker. I wouldn’t know either.”

The stranger nodded to himself.

“My wife is usually the one wearing a suit. She insisted I dressed the part.”

Sakumo smiled thinly. The man’s presence grew more reassuring as he spoke, low and with confidence, about his son Naruto. He introduced himself, bowing, and Sakumo bowed his head, trying to match his posture.

Minato was charismatic, poised, speaking with a slight nod and smile, his foot only bouncing slightly, but nothing about him seemed artificial. He listened intently, matching gaze for gaze, word for word.

Sakumo found himself nervously volunteering some information about his own son Kakashi. 

“He was a bit rough in gym class… with the other kids, I mean.”

Minato nodded once. 

“Naruto often loses himself in his games too.”

Sakumo licked his cracked lips. 

“Kakashi is 10 now,” he admitted and winced, his shoulders sinking. “He’s much older than your son.”

Minato calmly looked up at the sign above the classroom where Sakumo was waiting. He felt his cheeks burn.

“He’s still a child. Children can’t be expected to behave like adults,” Minato smiled.

Sakumo tensed, his throat burning, his grip tightening on the fabric of his pants. He felt the pinch of his fear in both thighs: ‘ _Is he really normal?_ ’ he wanted to ask. He had been too afraid to his ask his teachers, the counsellor, the principal.

It was much easier to give up on each word when it formed in its mind, when worry and grief overruled everything.

“You should call me, so they can have a playdate,” Minato said and offered him a business card. 

Sakumo glanced at the card, surprised, uneasy. 

“It’s my wife’s,” Minato said with the same smile, the same warmth, and Sakumo's hand trembled as he reached for the card. “Naruto always wanted a big brother, I hope you won’t mind?”

Sakumo shook his head, holding on to the card. 

The teacher called Minato's name and he smiled one last time before disappearing inside the classroom. Sakumo could already hear him joking with the teacher as the door shut.

Sakumo glanced down at the card for a moment, until slipping it inside his jacket, next to the red slip written in bold.

He patted his chest, distracted.

Maybe he wouldn't give up. Just this once. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Kudos and comments are appreciated :)) 
> 
> If you would like to join the Multishipper discord server, follow [this link](https://naruto-multishippers-anonymous.tumblr.com/post/624717686512009216/naruto-multishippers-anonymous-promo).
> 
> Stay safe, y'all!


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